


It must be Christmas Time

by CiderWriter (orphan_account)



Series: Christmas [5]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Charles is a Professor, Christmas, Erik has Issues, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Home for Christmas - Freeform, M/M, Poor Charles, primarily angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8776123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CiderWriter
Summary: DAY 6 of Christmas countdownIt was Christmas. Charles hadn’t laid eyes on Erik since late summer. It had been months; months since he’d last seen the man he loved. Hated. Loved. He came and went like the changing seasons. For a few brief days, he was there and he was perfect. But he left just as easily each time, in the dead of night, slipping out of the mansion like a ghost. Sometimes Charles thought he must be.





	

“Look at me.”

He didn’t. He didn’t do as asked. He was so deathly scared that if he opened his eyes, everything would fade away. The rest of the sensations were enough. The feel of Erik’s breath, hot against his thighs, and the softness of his lips as he spoke such pretty words to him. He could smell that metallic scent that followed the man around everywhere, almost the coppery thickness of blood. But this was Erik, and he was a dream, and if Charles opened his eyes for even a second, it might all melt away.

“Charles, open your eyes.”

Charles shook his head resolutely. It was Christmas. Charles hadn’t laid eyes on Erik since late summer. It had been months; months since he’d last seen the man he loved. Hated. Loved. He came and went like the changing seasons. For a few brief days, he was there and he was perfect. But he left just as easily each time, in the dead of night, slipping out of the mansion like a ghost. Sometimes Charles thought he must be.

The bed creaked softly, and the mattress dipped as the phantom Erik moved from kneeling between Charles’ thighs. For a moment, his breath was at his jawline. Then he moved again, and pressed a single kiss to Charles’ left eye-lid.

“I’m here, Charles.” He pressed another kiss to his right eye, and Charles’ breath caught in his throat. “You can sense me, I know it.

“My brain is an extraordinary thing. I think I could trick myself into anything if I wanted it badly enough.” He replied pragmatically; though he couldn’t deny how breathless he sounded. He couldn’t quite decipher if he was desperate for Erik to touch him more, or scared of it. If he were going mad, surely there were worse things to be imagining? He’d never even considered the possibility of dying happy until he’d met Erik. He was so young, before? He’d thought himself invincible. But Erik… he would die in Erik’s arms, whether the man was real or not.

“I don’t doubt it, Liebling. But this is real. You’re quite awake.”

“I think you might be right.” Charles reached a hand up to the face hovering by his own. His fingers wound into soft hair, and in his mind's eye he could so clearly see those beautiful messy waves he was so used to seeing - first thing in the morning when Erik hadn’t bothered to brush his hair. “If I were sleeping, you’d have that _thing_ on your head.” His eyes snapped open, and he caught the flash of hurt on Erik’s face before he masked it with self-confidence and a smirk. It didn’t stop him looking tired. Charles so wished he’d stop running.

“There.” Erik said softly. “I like to see those pretty blue eyes, Schatz.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Charles mimicked Erik’s earlier statement, wide-eyed and innocent. He was sure Erik would be wiping the childish cheek from his face soon enough. Frankly, Charles doubted everything nowadays. Erik was in and out of his life and he lived for those visits, he truly did. But without Erik, the world still turned. He taught and laughed, even remembered to eat and sleep, sometimes. He worked with the government, helped Hank with research, tracked down potential students and completed his own research. He tried not to concern himself with what Erik did, but that didn’t stop him worrying. That thick, coppery scent couldn’t be Erik alone. Or perhaps it was just Charles’ mind, tapping in to memories that Erik never wanted him to see. The stench of dying men, bleeding out on the cold, hard ground.

Erik, he realized now, could never be a great man. He could never be trusted to lead the masses, never take on the responsibility of their race. But he could be a good man. He could stay, if only for a few days, and let himself be happy. Oh he’d hide his hurt at Charles’ comments and act invincible; but he’d hold Charles until sunrise and listen to his pointless stories without complaining once.

“Did you miss me, Charles?” Erik began to work his way back down Charles’ body, kissing the bare skin he found intermittently. There was no rhyme or reason, and certainly no hurry. Only an arrogant blasé attitude that broke Charles’ heart.

“We all miss you. Raven’s sorry she ever left you alone. The younger children barely see you enough to remember you at all, but they wish you’d stay longer.”

“And do you?”

Their eyes met sharply, and Charles almost said no. Almost. If Erik stayed any longer, he didn’t think he could cope with the next time he left.

“You never would, Erik.”

“You’re right. For now.” Erik’s hands were large and, as they ghosted his skin, they left burns in their wake. “But a time will come, Charles, when you will be my first priority.” He laughed then, soft and short. “Don’t worry. I know I can never be yours. Not with Raven and the children. But I can’t say I won’t fight them for your attention.”

“That sounds splendid.” And it did. He could see it all so clearly. Running the school with Erik tugging on one arm, Raven on the other and the children clinging on to all their ankles. It wasn’t a bad dream, he thought. In fact, after everything they’d been through, it felt rather like a happy ending.

Erik didn’t reply in words, but his hands moved to his hips and his breath was hot against his thighs again, for a brief teasing moment, before his tongue darted out and the evening truly began. Exquisite as ever though it was, there were words unspoken in this that weighed heavy in the air. It wasn’t desperate or needy, though Charles was starting to question that. No, Erik wasn’t desperate or needy. He looked up at Charles through his lashes, mouth working diligently on his cock, and he seemed content.

“Erik-“

Charles’ shaking hands found Erik’s, holding his hips down and steady, and Erik gave in willingly. Their fingers intertwined and Charles clutched the larger hands, his hips finally thrusting up a few times before the sensations overwhelmed him and he repeated Erik’s name until he couldn’t form the words any longer.

He was distantly aware of everything for the next small eternity. He sensed the entire school, felt the tug of their sleepiness, and their dreams. At the same time, he registered absolutely nothing at all until he felt the familiar warmth of Erik snaking his arms around his waist.

“What did you mean, a time will come?”

“One day, Charles, I intend to come home to stay. If you still want me.”

“I think so.” Charles smiled lazily. A clarity had descended on him in the aftermath of his orgasm. Erik was real, and home for Christmas and, one day, he’d be home for good.

**Author's Note:**

> Named after my favourite Christmas song, 2000 miles by the Pretenders.


End file.
